Maybe he’d killed her? He got his bearings – she was on top of him – and he swung the gun into the side of her head. She rolled off of him, onto...her knees, and started moving, struggling, groaning.He forced himself up and onto his feet, gun still in hand. He tried to not look, but eventually he had to take a glance at the damage Rebecca had done to his other hand. There was no hand, just a stump of wrist where it had been. Pain re-surged anew, and he forced down the need to scream and yell. He. It transpired that Greta was boasting of how she would marry her toy boy, retire to England and never have to turn another trick for the rest of her life–unless she wanted to.I don't think Greta was too popular with my waitress—Ushi—because she voluntarily gave me directions to where Greta lived, about a click from the bar.I banged on the door of Greta's flat, two floors up in a dingy tenement block, tucked away behind Celle railway station. After a minute or two a female voice from inside the. More

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